Daisies
by Zighana
Summary: Dawn and Brandon run away to New York City to get away from it all. Language, violence, sexual themes, and dark humor. You've been warned! Updated Chapter 2!
1. Chapter 1

**Daisies**

_ Dawn and Brandon run away together to New York City to escape their troubles. (Dawn/Brandon)_

_"You comin'?"_

Dawn blinks back to reality. There is Brandon, so close to her she could taste the sweat from his lips. Here they were, in Brandon's filthy room, about to make huge decisions.

Dawn wants to be his girlfriend; Brandon wants to run away before he's shipped off to military school. Two completely different issues that somehow seem to fit together, like convoluted puzzle pieces. Now Dawn is at the crossroads; to stay or to go.

Dawn doesn't know what to do; the rational part of her is aware of the consequences of leaving with him. Knowing what her parents told her about runaways, they won't make it far. With any luck, they would reach a landmark before they could call it quits and head back home. If they can survive homelessness, possible sickness, and drugs, that is. Dawn imagines sleeping on a park bench while Brandon pick pockets a newlywed couple for money. She imagines them on the street, begging for change and food. She imagines getting strung out in the alleyway with no one rushing to help her when she passes out. Worst case scenario, they could be dead in a week and no one would even care or notice, especially her own parents. The thought depresses her.

But the other part of her is reminded of her dreary existence: the teasing, the humiliation, the psychological mind-fuckery Lolita inflicted on her, the loss of a good friend from one awful word. The broken heart from a guy who will never love her, the isolation from her self absorbed parents. That spoiled little brat that has the audacity to call itself her little sister. She finds no valuable reason to stay. The whole world hates her, her parents don't care at all about her, and no matter what she does, she screws up and make a situation worse for herself than it should be. She lost her clubhouse, lost her best friend, and she just might lose the only boy who took interest in her.

If she left right now, who would honestly care, or even notice? Her parents are too wrapped up in her baby sister going missing, and her brother is too invested in his college career. And when she's gone, she won't have to face those awful kids and their disgusting behaviors.

_Wiener dog._

_Ugly._

_Dog Face._

_Lesbo._

_Cunt._

Cruel words etched into her locker.

Cruel words hurled at her as she sits down to eat her lunch.

The spitballs thrown into her hair.

The late-night crying sessions when the teasing got too much.

She wanted to get away from it all.

"You comin'?" Brandon repeats, louder than before.

"Don't go," Dawn replies, reaching to grab his hand. He yanks it away.

"I have to. Now you comin' or not, asshole?"

She looks back at him. His normally harsh eyes soften, as if pleading with her to go. Despite his mean behavior, he still wants her there. He still wants her by his side. He still likes her. He is the first and possibly the only boy who will ever like her. The only one who understands.

Dawn swallows and takes a deep breath. She looks him in the eye and smiles.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is a fanfic from the film Welcome to the Dollhouse. It's an Alternative Universe to when {spoilers}. I love this film, and I sort of wanted Dawn-centric fan fics because dammit she's earned it! Warning: sex themes, drugs, violence, and strong language may occur. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2: Slurpee

Diary

The two traveled in silence, both unsure of where to go or what to do next. Or rather, Brandon knew but didn't want to say anything. Dawn merely rolled her bike alongside her as they walked far from his house.

Every five minutes Dawn looked back, just to make sure it's happening, that this runaway scheme is real. When that dilapidated house became a speck on the horizon, part of her wanted to turn back. She fears his father would hunt them down in his pickup truck and drag Brandon to military school, kicking and screaming while Dawn watches. Does Mr. McCarthy even know they're gone? Does he even care? She doesn't want to think about it too much; it depresses her.

She instead looks to Brandon, who's walking like he has a plan, like he has something to prove. He turns to face her, his expression unreadable as he asks,

"Want to go grab a Slurpee?"

The 7-Eleven was a sorry excuse for an establishment: dingy walls, scratched up windows, and a cockroach skittering here and there. And don't even get Dawn started on the bathroom. But Brandon waded through the disgust and whistled at the store clerk. The man was in his late 40s early 50s, with a terrible dental plan.

"Hey, Brandon. How's my favorite fuck-up doing today?"

"Splendid. I want two large Slurpees." He smirked. Dawn watches as he digs through his pocket and salvages seven dollars and some change. He slides it to the clerk who then points to the Slurpee machine to their right.

The Slurpee machine was slightly grimy, but well-maintained. Brandon grabs the cups and slides them under the flavors. Dawn was going to tell him she wanted cherry, but instead he poured blue raspberry into her cup and slid it to her. He got cherry.

They then walked out on the curb and drank their treats in silence. Dawn then spoke.

"What are we going to do?"

"Fuck if I know. There's a bus that could take us there. We could go tonight, or tomorrow morning if you feel like it. Maybe then you could go grab your stuff."

"My stuff?" Her eyes grew big like saucers. The realization sets in and there's fear in her gut. As she's mulling it over, Brandon continues to talk.

She's running away.

She's running away.

She's running away…

"…And then we can stay at a motel and go sight seeing…"

She's finally going to leave this place behind…

"…find jobs as waiters or mechanics. I'm real good with cars…"

She can say goodbye to her family for good…

"…as long as you're by my side…"

She and Brandon have no one but themselves now. Them against the world…

"…Get your shit tonight."

She snaps back to reality.

Brandon looks at her in earnest, expecting an answer. She nods her head.

"I-I-I'll go packing tonight." She answers, turning back to her melted drink. Brandon, liking the answer, wraps his arm around her shoulder.

"Us against the world." He says with conviction.

"Us against the world." Dawn repeats.

Though she's not as confident in her answer as he is.

* * *

><p>That night, Dawn manages to sneak back into her home with the key she snuck under the doormat for emergencies. She tip-toes up the steps, taking care to check her surroundings. For all she knew, the cops could be lurking and it'd be one messy explanation to tell them if they caught her.<p>

She tried to be stealthy; genetics are her enemy. Her big feet and clumsy body lead to many stubbed toes, broken vases, and crooked furniture from her bumping into it. After miraculously making her way upstairs, she makes it to her bedroom.

She could only scoff at her bedroom; it became a shrine devoted to Missy ever since she was kidnapped. Dawn could hardly find any of her stuff anymore; there's no trace she ever lived in this room. They must've moved her stuff downstairs, it seems.

Sighing with frustration, she opens Missy's treasure chest and throws out her dolls and finds her most valued possession; her diary.

Her diary, originally a gift for Missy, is her most valued possession. She could be herself and not be judged for it. And it was safe from prying eyes, guarded with lock and key that only she has access to, no matter how hard Missy or her parents tried to find it. The key was stashed in the body of one of Missy's dolls.

The one Dawn decapitated.

Grabbing the doll and shaking it, she smiled in relief that the shiny key slid out its neck untouched. She takes the key and the book and crams it into her knapsack. Looking around, an evil thought popped into her head.

She leaves the Wiener residence hours later with a sense of peace and calmness. Her knapsack full of necessities and her vendetta complete, she meets Brandon at the corner and they start walking.

"You good?" Brandon asks.

"I'm good." She answers, walking with her head held high.

She never looked happier.

* * *

><p>The next morning Mrs. Wiener woke up. She yawned, she stretched, she took the rollers out her hair and kissed her ailing husband of 20 years. She walks into Missy's room for her ritual grieving process, and lets out a blood curdling scream.<p>

Missy's room had been ransacked: Her comforter set, her dolls, her books, her clothes, her pictures, that 5-inch portrait of her in her bright pink tutu…

Gone.

A psychopath had entered her house and stolen Missy's possessions! Had it been her kidnapper?

She runs downstairs.

What she sees is even more bizarre.

Dolls. Missy's dolls. Strung up on the walls by yarn, nude. There's a doll crammed into the toaster, melting and burning as its synthetic hair is on fire. There's one ripped apart and its torso is sticking out the chocolate cake, crotch up. Its head is found slowly melting as it swims in a pot of hot coffee.

Even stranger, Missy's pictures are scattered on the ground into an arrow, pointing to the backyard. What she finds shatters her psyche.

Missy's portrait is destroyed. The eyes are gouged out, the face slashed and scrawled over in bright red marker. Her comforter set is torn and ripped, caked in dirt, grass, and dog piss. Surrounding this shrine of horror is the rest of her valuable dolls, mangled into bits and pieces. Missy's clothes are strewn all over the back yard, some buried underneath Mrs. Wiener's precious petunias.

Her garden isn't unscathed: every plant has been pulled from the ground by its roots and trampled on. Years of backbreaking labor and love destroyed. The carnage now mars one of Missy's trademark tutus.

It's too much.

Mrs. Wiener staggers into the living room to lie down only to trip and fall face first into the couch's unforgiving seat cushion. Pulling herself up, she looks at what tripped her.

Another doll.

One who is eerily intact.

She picks it up, only for the head to fall off and a tiny piece of paper stick out. Pulling the paper out, she unfurls it and is greeted with loud blue words.

**FUCK YOU ALL. **

**DAWN.**

She fainted.

From that day on, Mark has paramedics on speed dial.

* * *

><p>"You good?"<p>

Dawn jolts out of her fantasy and faces Brandon. He waits for her at the corner, eyes crossed with worry. Her sack filled with the stuff they need and her diary held tightly, she solemly nods.

"Yeah, I'm good."


	3. Chapter 3: Sweet Girl (fluff!)

**Sweet Girl**

Dawn walks with Brandon, the cool air shaking her to her core. They had fifteen blocks to walk for them to reach the motel. Brandon insisted they rest before their bus ride to New York. _Our last night in this shithole, _he explains. Dawn, obviously knowing that she had no say in this decision, merely nodded her head and agreed.

Dawn never walked out at night; she's heard too many stories about kids her age getting kidnapped, murdered, and raped. Though, not necessarily in that order. She scans her surroundings with skittish eyes, waiting for a creepy looking man to pop out of the bushes and take her away too, like he did to Missy. A part of her wonders if he will take Brandon too while he's at it; make it a two for one deal. She doubts it; he doesn't exactly look _kidnap-able_. His lanky body, awkward looking face, and strong stench of cigarette smoke will deter anyone. His menacing scowl and pocket knife is just icing on the Brandon cake.

"We can go grab a bite on the way, if you're hungry," Brandon offers, the neon sign of a burger joint fast ahead. As if on cue, Dawn's stomach growls. Had she eaten today? The only thing she remembers is that cup of coffee, a sugary donut, and a Slurpee.

"I got money," Brandon continues, "I saved up some dough from my days working on people's yards. We got more than enough for a motel, a bus ride, and a few bites along the way." Dawn nods and holds on to his arm tighter.

The diner is a small one, with tables built into the walls for people to walk down the aisles easier. The counter is the biggest thing in the establishment; it contains the kitchen, the office, the register, and even the refrigerator and freezer, all in 3 square inches. Brandon looks up at the chalk-written menu while Dawn looks for a table to sit at.

"Hi, my name is Sherry. What would you like?" The waitress beams at him. Brandon scratches his chin and motions for Dawn to look at the board.

"I'd like a...cheeseburger, with everything on it, plus the bacon. Can I get some fries and a milkshake?" She asks. Sherry nods and writes it down.

"I want the same, only no onions and I want a large Coke with mine. I want it for here." Brandon adds, wrapping his arm around Dawn's waist. He pulls out a ten dollar bill from his pocket and hands it to Sherry. She gives him back the change and the receipt and points to the array of empty tables for them take.

"Alright, let's get you two seated and your food will be there shortly. You're Order Number 30."

Brandon nods and sits at the table Dawn picked out. It's in the corner of the restaurant with windows on each side, where she could look out at the world. She's transfixed by the flashing cars and illuminated houses while Brandon fumbles in his pocket for a smoke. He pulls out his trusty Zippo lighter, fishes out his Marlboro, and lights up. The nicotine rush hits him and he sighs, smoke blowing through his nose. He inhales again, looking at Dawn as she stays lost in her thoughts.

What is she thinking about?

"I don't get you sometimes." He says, though he's not sure if she notices what was said. Their order is announced and Brandon goes to pick up their food. They eat in silence, the only noises are the smacking and slurping from the food. When Dawn finishes her milkshake, Brandon leaves three dollars on the table and leaves after a curt thanks.

"That food was pretty good," Dawn says after they left. Brandon agrees.

"Yeah, those fries could give In-and-Out a run for their money."

"I liked the milkshake the most. I haven't had a milkshake in a while."

"You know what?" He turns to face her. Before Dawn could respond he swoops in and kisses her.

"I like that milkshake too. Real sweet," he smiles a wolfish grin and continues down the road, a blushing Dawn trailing after.


	4. Chapter 4: Breaking the Chain

**Breaking the Chain**

It had been a week since Missy's disappearance.

It had been a few days since Dawn's.

Mrs. Wiener had once prided herself on being the perfect mother. She has raised a computer nerd, a ballerina prodigy, and an ugly duckling she prays will grow into a swan, or marries into wealth and becomes a swan through a few surgeries. Dawn hasn't been graced with the best of genetics; Mrs. Wiener blames her husband.

But now two of her girls are missing and despite her grief over Missy, she notices people are talking. She knows how nosy the neighbors are, always quick to pry into her family business through the local gossip about the town's rejects. Two missing girls and a social pariah of a son is known to have people gossiping and questioning her parental skills. She might even be the laughing stock at next week's dinner party over how much of a train-wreck she's become! She could just die of embarrassment if she sees another look of pity or another condescending side eye that reads, _you're such a terrible mother that both of your daughters are gone and you're sitting on your ass moping. Such an attention-whore!_

She sits in her now empty living room, a cigarette in her mouth and the family photo clutched in her hand. It was a more innocent time, before Dawn started middle school and she became such a nuisance. She marveled at how perfect they looked, how they appeared to have it all together.

Now her picturesque family is torn apart: her son wants no involvement with her and her husband, her favorite daughter is missing while the other one is...somewhere. She bets her best dollar that she ran off for attention and Mrs. Wiener will be damned before she gives it to her. Missy is missing; possibly kidnapped by some pervert who is probably...she'd much rather not think about it. Instead, she takes a sip of wine and tries to piece together her shattered family through her family videos.

* * *

><p>"I hate my family."<p>

Brandon looks over and sees Dawn walking with her head down.

"They're a bunch of fucking assholes. All they cared about was Missy. Missy this, Missy that, it's like after they got the daughter they wanted I vanished. They make it obvious she's the favorite and it makes me sick,"

Brandon nodded in agreement.

"You shoulda left a long time ago. I don't see why you put up with them."

"Because I thought that one day, they'll appreciate me. They'll love me and accept me for who I am and..."

"And what?"

"I don't know." Dawn shakes her head, "I never gotten that far."

Brandon sighs.

"Fuck 'em. As of tonight, both of our parents are dead. D-E-A-D_ dead_. Matter of fact, they never even_ existed._ They died by...having their heads shoved up their ass for too long."

"I don't think that's possible-"

"Shut up. If I tell you your asshole parents are dead, then they're fucking dead. We won't talk to them, we won't ask them for help, and we'll definitely pretend we don't see them if they cross our paths. Right now we have only each other to depend on. We are our own parents, our own siblings, our own family. We are all we have and we are all we need." Brandon locks eyes with Dawn, urging her to see things his way.

They are in for a long, hard journey to New York City. At this moment, they only have each other's backs and Brandon needs to know if Dawn is going to hold her end of the bargain. Dead weight won't do for where he's going. For once, he needs Dawn to have a spine and be strong.

"Us against the world," Dawn meekly replies.

"Us against the world." He kisses her quickly and they reach their destination.

"Prepare for a good night's rest, because after this, we might be sleeping on benches, cars, and subways for a while."

* * *

><p>Mrs. Wiener was on her fifth glass of wine when Mark called for her.<p>

"Mom, it's Dawn!"

Straightening herself up, she walks up the stairs and answers the phone.

"Ready to come crawling back home, young lady?" She asks, smugness dripping with every word.

"Actually, Mom, there's something I need to tell you and Dad."

"You got a lot of nerve calling us at this ungodly hour! Where are you, anyway? Don't you know how stressful it is for me to lose Missy and to have you pull an attention stunt and run off? Paul! It's Dawn!"

Her husband groans in reply.

"You're making him even sicker. See what you did?"

She hears her daughter take a deep breath and sigh in frustration.

"Mom," she begins, "This will be the last time you'll ever hear from me. This will be the last time to talk to me, to get anything off your chest, because right now, I never want to see you again. After tonight, you are dead to me."

Ice fell into the pit of Mrs. Wiener's stomach.

"All my life, I've been treated like shit. From the kids at school, and even at home from you. And that's not the way I want to live. I love you, Mom, but you and this family are poison. I'm running away to New York City with a boy who actually gives a shit."

"Watch your tongue, you little wench! I spent 36 hours in labor to push you out and this is what I get? A foul-mouthed daughter who is running away in the midst of her baby sister gone-"

"Could you shut up for once, Mom? Please, stop talking. I've had it with you talking about Missy all the time. That's all you care about. So quit pretending to care about me when you didn't even notice me or my problems. Please, just forget I even exist like you did before. So it can be easier for me to move on and actually be happy for once."

"You're making a big mistake! You're going to be strung out, pregnant, and you'll come running back! Just you wait! And I won't have a junkie pregnant daughter smearing the family name!"

"..."

Silence.

"Goodbye, Mom. Tell Mark I love him and thanks for being there."

Click.

Dial Tone.

Mrs. Wiener looks at the phone in disbelief.

_Just forget I even existed like you did before._

_After tonight, you're dead to me._

_I never want to see you again._

"What did Dawn say? She comin' home?"

Mark sees his mother's tear-streaked face, and knows it's nothing good.

"Put Dawn's things out in the garage. We're selling it Friday."

* * *

><p>Dawn looks at the phone, disbelieving what took place. She finally stood up to her mother. She cut all ties with her awful family. She's free.<p>

"I'm proud of you." Brandon interjects. He stood by her as emotional support for when she told them the news. Dawn is shaking, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She's free.

She's finally free.


End file.
